


stay awhile

by comefeedtherainn



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Fluff, Other, as fluffy as washing blood out of someone's hair can be anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25084201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comefeedtherainn/pseuds/comefeedtherainn
Summary: It wasn't until he saw that Temarys was practically soaked in blood, and had a limp to boot, that Brynjolf was surprised.
Relationships: Brynjolf/Dovahkiin | Dragonborn
Kudos: 9





	stay awhile

Temarys often came into the Flagon flecked with blood, head high and stride sure as if they owned the place despite refusing on multiple occassions to join the Guild. It was a bit of a game for Brynjolf, now - Tem came to visit, Brynjolf harrassed them every so often about joining up, and then Tem left a couple of days later, well-rested with a full stomach and a kiss goodbye. Sometimes. That sort of depended on the day.

So it wasn't until he saw that instead of flecks, Temarys was practically soaked in blood, and had a limp to boot, that Brynjolf was surprised.

"Shit, Tem, what've you done?" he fretted, jogging to hold onto their hips and assist them down the ladder - he'd given them a key to the cemetary entrance ages ago, despite Mercer's complaints. 

"S'fine," Temarys grunted, stepping down onto the ground and immediately stumbling. They frowned when Brynjolf caught them by the arms, keeping them steady. "Thank you."

Brynjolf shook his head, helping Temarys walk painstakingly into the cistern. They really were covered, only a couple spots of soft, grey-blue skin peeking through the dark burgundy. Their hair, normally pulled into a neat braid or bun, hung in front of their eyes, stringy with blood and sweat. They were panting as they walked, though they seemed to be trying to keep quiet, holding their head up even as they relied almost entirely on Brynjolf for support. He let it go, for now, more focused on getting them clean and fixing up whatever new and interesting way they'd fucked themselves up this time.

The bath was empty, thankfully, and Brynjolf sat Tem down on the nearest stool before going around the room to light the lanterns. Temarys rested with their back against the wall, closing their eyes and letting out a long sigh. Brynjolf huffed through his nose, tapping their cheek once to get them to sit up again before starting to carefully remove their bloodstained armor. As he peeled away the leather gauntlets and cuirass, black and deep red underneath all of the mess (good thing they were getting changed, too - the others tended to get a little jumpy if Tem wore their Brotherhood armor when they were visiting), Brynjolf could see that the blood indeed seemed to be mostly...someone else's. Temarys had a few cuts and scrapes on their arms and chest, but nothing that would need more than a bandage. As Brynjolf removed the rest of their clothes, it appeared that the most concerning injury was a swollen ankle. He tried to hide the sigh of relief, knowing that Tem didn't like it when he got too "syrupy." 

"You look like hell," he said, instead of the other things he wanted to say. 

"Thank you," Tem said dryly, quirking a pronounced brow at him. Even covered in drying blood, they managed to pull off the haughty bastard thing quite well. The corner of Brynjolf's mouth quirked fondly.

"I'm running you a bath. Stay," he said firmly, before getting to his feet and going to fill up the tub while Tem crossed their arms and leaned back against the wall to wait. 

Months ago, Brynjolf might have concentrated too hard on averting his eyes, or left Tem to their own devices despite their injury out of pure awkwardness, but things were different. Even if all other forms of intimacy seemed to be trapped behind a fortress, that particular form was something with which the two of them were well-acquainted. 

There was hot water over the fire, so Brynjolf warmed the bath a bit with that before reaching for Temarys' hand. 

"Come on, then."

Tem sighed, though they took the hand and hauled themselves to their feet. Favoring their busted ankle, they hobbled over and, using Brynjolf's hands for support, lowered themselves into the tub. The water almost immediately turned dingy and pink, and Brynjolf shook his head as he reached for the basin off to the side, filling it with water and beginning to rinse out Temarys' hair, the thick, black strands loosening from their clumps as the blood was washed away.

"What happened?"

Tem grunted low in their throat, not answering for several moments, until Brynjolf was sure they wouldn't. "Job went wrong," they said eventually, eyes closed and brow smooth as tilted their head back to make Bryn's job easier. "Ran in with some guards. It got ugly."

Brynjolf frowned deeply, rubbing his fingernails gently along Temarys' hairline where the blood had gotten crusty and hard. "Where was the job? Not in Riften?"

Tem snorted, opening one eye just to give him a dry look. "No. I'm not stupid. It was in Shor's Stone; I thought it would be easy. But I suppose the man knew he was in trouble. The guard were tipped off, called in back-up, and it ended up being a bit of a bloodbath. Literally."

"Mm." It was quiet for a while, Brynjolf having to work longer than he expected to get all of the clotted blood out of Temarys' hair. Once that was done, he went to rinse off his hands, leaving Tem to their own devices. They pooled some water in their hands and promptly began to scrub at their face vigorously, the skin a bit flushed but clean when they were finished. 

"I'm sorry," they said eventually, now working on scrubbing at their arms and legs. "I would have, I don't know...jumped in the lake or something, before I got here. I was lying low, couldn't spare the time."

"Don't apologize," said Brynjolf, lowering himself into the stool Tem had previously occupied. "...I worry for you."

Temarys flicked a glance his way, before averting their eyes again. "I can handle myself, Bryn."

"I know it. But I worry, even still."

Temarys' jaw clenched, then released, emotions that Brynjolf could never put a name to crossing their face.

"I appreciate it," they said finally, still not meeting Brynjolf's eyes. "It's comforting to...to know that someone cares." They spoke slowly, like they always did when they were being sincere, like the sensation was so unfamiliar they had to search extra long for the right words. Bryn smiled softly.

"Good." Another bit of silence, Temarys finally beginning to look like themselves as they finally became clean. "Stay for a while," said Brynjolf.

Temarys lifted their gaze to him, the corner of their mouth lifting.

"Alright."


End file.
